


I like watching you do that

by belmanoir



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alive Tommy, Exhibitionism, Multi, PWP, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Diggle and Oliver have sex in the basement while Felicity's there working. </p><p>
  <i>"Honestly, do whatever you want over there, I'm not sure how sex could really be any dirtier than what you do while you're working out."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Oliver starts to grin, and by the time he finishes he's tackled Diggle to the mat and pinned him under him. He winks at her. "Wanna bet?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I like watching you do that

**Author's Note:**

> For [More Joy Day 2014](http://sdwolfpup.dreamwidth.org/634512.html).
> 
> Thank you, Sonia, for helping me brainstorm this fic.

Felicity is so used to Diggle and Oliver grunting away in the space in front of her desk that it takes her a minute to realize that the sounds she's hearing aren't just sparring. Even then, she might not have noticed, except that they go quiet, and Diggle hisses warningly, " _Oliver_." She looks up, and a shirtless Oliver has Diggle bent over a weight bench, which wouldn't really be notable except that he's raising his head from, she would swear even though her eyes hadn't quite brought him into focus yet, licking Diggle's neck.

Um. Okay then. Not exactly a _bad_ thing to see. "Wait, you guys are actually doing it?"

"No!" Diggle says.

Oliver lets go and backs away abruptly.

"Oliver," Diggle says, standing up. "That isn't what I meant. We have a sexual relationship, Felicity. I just meant, we weren't having sex right then. Because that would be inappropriate. As would kissing while Felicity is here." He says it with a pointed look at Oliver.

Oliver rolls his eyes. 

"Look, if you guys want to make out while sparring, that doesn't bother me, but you really don't mind that he...well...?" She gestures at Oliver. She doesn't really want to tell on him about Isabel, but she isn't going to let him get away with cheating either. Not on Diggle. 

"We're not exclusive," Oliver says in that way he has where he thinks if he says it aggressively enough, she won't ask any more questions. He'll learn one day, but Diggle nods, looking unconcerned, so whatever, it's none of her business and she doesn't have to get annoyed at Oliver anymore for hooking up with jerks and going on lunch dates with Laurel when Diggle is a great guy and totally in love with him. So that's a relief.

"Okay then," she says. "Honestly, do whatever you want over there, I'm not sure how sex could really be any dirtier than what you do while you're working out."

Oliver starts to grin, and by the time he finishes he's tackled Diggle to the mat and pinned him under him. He winks at her. "Wanna bet?" 

Diggle tips his head back and frowns in her direction. "Felicity, is this really okay with you?"

Her skin starts to tingle. Are they really going to...? "If it's okay with you," she says, trying to sound nonchalant. "I am firmly against workplace harassment, and firmly in favor of enthusiastic consent. Which you should consider this to be me giving, but you have not. I'm pretty sure being tackled doesn't constitute consent in any universe. And if my gaze makes you uncomfortable, I will understand and it won't affect our working relationship in future."

Diggle gives her an upside-down smile, a warm, wicked tilt to his mouth. "You're a perv, Felicity."

"I think you knew that, Diggle." 

He makes a sudden movement, a sharp jerk of his hips, and he's got Oliver flat on his back. "Believe me, if I didn't want him to tackle me, he couldn't."

"I will take bets on that too," Oliver says, and then they're tussling with each other, rolling around and thrashing. She's seen this before, lots of times, except now in addition to being sexy, it's sexual. Actual foreplay. Muscles flash and then Diggle's undershirt is straggling at the sidelines. Diggle has a really nice back. And chest, but she's mostly seeing his back because his chest is pressed against Oliver's--no wait, Diggle pins Oliver facedown on the mat. Oliver strains, but Diggle has his right arm twisted behind his back. His other hand grabs Oliver's left wrist and presses it to the floor.

Diggle leans down and growls in his ear, "You wanna tap out?" 

Oliver laughs. "What are you talking about? I've got you right where I want you." He grinds back against Diggle with a totally obscene roll of his hips. Maybe she was wrong that this couldn't get dirtier. Although those one-handed push-ups might tie. Even she can see that Diggle's grip on his arm loosens for a second, but Oliver doesn't take advantage. Instead, he glances at her, a conspiratorial little look, his mouth curving slightly. 

It's not exactly a _surprise_ that Oliver is an exhibitionist, what with the shirtless working out and all (in cargo pants and a belt! who works out in a belt?), but it's nice to have confirmation anyway.

Bonus nice when the confirmation is that he wants her to watch Diggle fuck him.

Diggle lets go of Oliver's wrist to pull out the aforementioned belt. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he mutters as he has to fumble with the buckle one-handed. Felicity swallows a nervous giggle. But he eventually gets it. The strip of canvas slides out with a tiny jingle, and Diggle pushes Oliver's pants and underwear down. "Hey, Felicity," Diggle says without looking at her. "Could you grab the lube out of the junk drawer and toss it to me? And a condom?" He lets go of Oliver's arm, tensing for resistance, but Oliver just rests his face on his forearms, raising himself up slightly on his knees. Diggle leans down and kisses the back of his neck. "I got you." 

Oliver nods. "I know."

Wow, this is really happening. Her throw is awful (and how did she never notice there was lube and condoms at the back of the junk drawer?), but Diggle catches it anyway because he's got great reflexes. He unscrews the top and slicks up his fingers as if he's done it a _lot_ of times.

Oliver raises his head as Diggle slides his fingers in. She thinks it's so she can see his face. His eyes are closed and he's tense--but in a good way. She's seen a lot of Oliver tense, and this is just impatience, not the hard mouth and sharp movements that mean things could get ugly really fast. He breathes short and fast, holding himself still, grunting when Diggle makes a sudden movement, putting his wrist into it. Diggle kisses his shoulder as he fucks him with his fingers, and she catches the edge of Oliver's smile. "Diggle's a romantic," he says.

Diggle smiles and pulls his fingers out. "So are you, you're just not as good at it." He glances at Felicity a little self-consciously as he unzips his own slacks. She makes a face that she hopes conveys _It's never too late to back out if this is weird_. Whatever it conveys, Diggles smirks at her, straightens, and pushes his pants down his thighs, letting it all hang out. 

Felicity wants to keep it cool, but she also doesn't want to seem unappreciative. "You _definitely_ work out," she says. She thinks her tone strikes the right balance of comedic detachment and totally turned on. 

Oliver laughs--sex mellows him, apparently--and Diggle keeps eye contact with her while he rolls the condom over his dick, eyebrows slightly raised as if he's daring her to blush. Felicity is great at staring contests, although she also blushes really easily, so she's not sure who's winning. Luckily she's a lot less competitive than either of them--in most situations anyway. In this particular situation, she has no problem losing a staring contest to look down at Diggle's hands on his extremely hard penis.

This is awesome. This is most of the best parts of sex without having to do anything or take her clothes off or worry about looking stupid or what to do if she has trouble getting into it. She is so wet right now. She hopes she's not going to get a damp patch on her skirt. Probably it'll be okay.

Well, looking at the big picture, it will definitely be okay, because Diggle puts his hand flat on the mat, curving his body over Oliver's, and guides himself in. Oliver grits his teeth together and goes a little crazy, pushing himself back with desperate energy, the muscles in his arms cording.

"Chill, man." Diggle reaches around and takes Oliver's dick in his hand. 

Oliver makes a sobbing sort of noise and says in a breathless, amused voice, "Then step up."

"You're not the boss." Diggle keeps things slow, firm deliberate thrusts and strokes. Felicity wonders if that's for her, to put on more of a show, or if he just likes driving Oliver crazy.

Oliver raises his head and gives Felicity a long-suffering look. The effect is spoiled a little by his sweaty face and dilated eyes. "You see what I have to put up with."

"Mm," Felicity agrees, "it's tough not being the boss of everyone all the time." She realizes abruptly that Oliver is looking up her skirt under the desk. There's not much to see except her TARDIS underwear, but she spreads her legs a little anyway in quid pro quo.

Diggle speeds up, and pretty soon there's nothing show-offy or deliberate happening, just wholehearted, singleminded fucking. Their grunts and pants are almost exactly like their sparring noises. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to decide if she could tell the difference. Well, the rhythm kind of gives it away.

Oliver gives a strangled shout. Felicity pops her eyes open and watches him shudder, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut. She can't see the money shot from this angle, but he's definitely coming. Diggle follows him almost immediately, pressing his face into Oliver's back. Oliver reaches back and twines their fingers together, connecting them in this moment, which is kind of heart-meltingly sweet. They collapse onto the mat, breathing hard.

Felicity isn't sure what she's supposed to do, so she says, "That was way better than anything I've ever seen on YouPorn, thanks guys," and turns back to her computer. 

After a couple minutes of harmonized heaving, Oliver comes over, still a little out of breath, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She smiles up at him. "I'm great. And you are totally a romantic."

To her surprise, he leans down and kisses the top of her head. "I keep _your_ secret." Which is really cute that he remembers her saying that, but also she hopes this isn't about to get awkward or sexy. 

He takes his hand off her shoulder and he and Diggle go back to training as if nothing happened, so that's okay. 

###

After that first time, which was definitely a threesome kind of thing, he and Diggle usually just do whatever they want. It's barely even exhibitionism. Sometimes she glances up, sometimes she stops what she's doing to watch for a minute or two (well worth it, especially when they decide to get competitive about how flexible they are), but mostly she doesn't. It's just a background, subconscious tingle that makes her job a little bit more fun, tips the scale even further on the fun adrenaline side and away from the hostage-violence-earthquake-scary adrenaline side.

###

"Hey Oliver, can you spell Mr. Slum Landlord's name for me? I've tried like eight different spellings and even Google can't figure out what I'm trying to do."

There's a pause, and then Oliver does, sounding a little hoarse.

"Ohhhh. Cool." Aha, there he is.

"Felicity," Diggle says with breathless annoyance, "why do you _always_ ask Oliver a question right when he's in the middle of going down on me?"

Oops. "That's statistically unlikely," she says, eyes fixed on her screen. What if she searches for...? "It's probably just confirmation bias."

"I don't know what that is, but I'm pretty sure it isn't." 

She can tell by his voice that Oliver is going down on him again, so she doesn't know what the big deal is. "It's when you pay more attention to data that confirms what you already believe. So you don't notice the times when Oliver is going down on you and I don't ask any questions."

"I'd ask Oliver to back me up here if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied."

"Sorry, Dig, but what I'm doing is time sensitive and what you're doing isn't. If you don't want Oliver to raise his head, get him to learn Morse code." 

Diggle audibly comes about a minute later, and Oliver appears in her line of sight, crouching by her chair. Fortunately he's still wearing his pants, although there is a visible bulge. Extremely visible. Hard to look away from, really. "I know Morse code," he says, grinning at her. "Want me to show you?"

Is Oliver offering to go down on her too? Will she let him? Okay, she already knows the answer is yes, because he's looking at her and she really wants it, but will he expect to do that all the time then? Will he expect her to do it for him? Because that's not happening, but also she hates unequal relationships.

Luckily Diggle drags him away. "Leave Felicity alone," he says fondly, with an apologetic glance in her direction.

###

The door from the club opens. Felicity doesn't think much of it until Oliver says, "God, Tommy, don't you knock?"

"Well, I thought Felicity was down here--oh, hi, Felicity."

She spins her chair around and waves. 

"Were you guys seriously just"--Tommy gestures incredulously--"doing...that...while Felicity is working over there?"

"Can we have this conversation another time, maybe?" Oliver asks, trying to shield Diggle from view. This puts a lot of him in Tommy's view, but they've been best friends for, like, years, so probably it's nothing Tommy hasn't seen before.

"It helps me concentrate," Felicity calls. "Like writing in a coffee shop."

Tommy rolls his eyes and heads back up the stairs. "We've had four people call out sick, I need you to tend bar tonight," he calls over his shoulder. "Can you do that?"

Oliver grimaces. "You know I can't promise to stay all night."

Tommy pauses at the top of the steps. "Yeah."

"It's okay," Felicity says. "I can do it if he has to leave. I was really into mixology at M.I.T."

"Excellent," Diggle says. "Problem solved. See you later, Tommy."

"See you later." The door swings shut behind him.

"Well, that was awkward," Diggle says. Oliver shrugs. 

"It's okay," Felicity says, thinking. "We just need a sock on the doorknob system. Not literally though, I know you guys like to be spontaneous and going all the way up the stairs would ruin your flow. I'm on it." She spins her chair back around. A controller, she thinks. Just the one button, and it locks out Tommy and maybe makes the light on the keypad flash a different color to let him know what's up. She thinks there's a setting for yellow. The sounds of sex resume behind her as she digs under the desk for the box of old remote controls she keeps around just in case. 

She loves working in IT.


End file.
